Ealynn Voss

As Amelia in Un ballo in maschera

The least-known artist in this family of
colleagues has one of the greatest voices. Ealynn Voss—that’s the
ultimate evolution of E. Lynn (I’ll never tell what the E stands for!)
Winkelvoss—was an admired protégée of Birgit Nilsson, who was hooked the
moment she heard Lynn sing “In questa reggia” in a master class. The
myriad eventual destinations of the Voss Turandot (Baltimore, Charlotte,
Copenhagen, Costa Mesa [Opera Pacific], Houston, Miami, New York [City
Opera], Phoenix and Tucson [Arizona Opera], Pretoria, Rome, San Diego,
San Francisco, Sydney, the Arena di Verona company on tour in Japan, and
so forth) rivaled the great Swedish soprano’s own career itinerary with
Puccini’s fire-and-ice princess. Los Angeles Opera effectively
functioned as the Voss home company for a number of seasons. Though it
never worked out for her to sing Turandot there, she was Ariadne,
Chrysothemis, Senta, and the Ballo Amelia to considerable
acclaim. That great music critic Martin Bernheimer once lamented her
absence in print after hearing an inferior soprano: “Where was Ealynn
Voss when we needed her?” EV and BB met when judging (along with old pal
Marni Nixon) the Opera Guild of Southern California voice competition
in 1992. We were instantly in synch—it was as if we had known each other
all our lives. At the time, Ealynn’s husband and soulmate, L. A.
Philharmonic violinist Amadeo Altene (a dear and beautiful man) was
already suffering from the leukemia that would take him from her
prematurely.

She was the ultimate professional and didn’t cancel a single appearance when Amadeo died (during a run of Ariadne auf Naxos),
though it was sheer hell to get through those performances in which the
heroine must first bewail the loss of true love and then wax ecstatic
over discovering it anew with another man. Later, a harrowing bout with a
virulent form of breast cancer effectively ended Lynn’s career.
Impatient impresarios and agents weren’t interested in the reasons for
her necessary defection from contracts—the one from which she had to
withdraw on a day’s notice upon diagnosis was for Turandot at the Met,
with rehearsals under way—and year-long inability to enter into new
ones. Though she resumed singing when necessary strength was again
available, final retirement came in less than two years. Neither of us
could possibly know at the time our friendship began, though it had
already happened to me then, that the saddest thing we would end up
having in common is that both stopped singing because of illness. Now
the doyenne of a lovely home in Elizabeth, Pennsylvania, which she
shared with her extraordinarily spirited, appropriately named mother,
Jewel, until the latter’s death in October 2009, Ealynn still exudes the
aura of a diva—but also of a salt-of-the-earth, feet-on-the-ground
human being, the rarest of combinations. She has always had more in
common with the great Birgit than mere voice type alone. (May, 2010)